


Clasp your bloodied hands and pray

by Medalforzeroeffort



Category: Moral Orel
Genre: Minor Injuries, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 21:26:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29989050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medalforzeroeffort/pseuds/Medalforzeroeffort
Summary: In which Reverend Putty smacks a bitchSet in s3 e11 “Sacrifice,”
Kudos: 8





	Clasp your bloodied hands and pray

**Author's Note:**

> I can’t write for shit. Enjoy!

“How would you like a five finger discount on a knuckle sandwich, Puppington?”  
The Reverend danced on his feet, swinging his fists like the showboat boxers on television. 

Clay Puppington had been making him angrier and angrier the entire time they’d been in the bar, pestering the others and ranting and raving like the lunatic he was.

He stared back at Reverend Putty, raising one eyebrow. The Reverend didn’t know what to expect from him, because thinking twice, Clay was certainly more agile and capable than him in a fight.

Instead of raising his hands, Clay simply opened his mouth, baring his teeth.

“Aaaaaah!”

Silence amongst the patrons.

“Aaaaaah!” He shook his head back and forth in a come-hither manner.

Dr. Potterswheel and Officer Papermouth’s faces turned to confusion, where moments before there had been anger.

Reverend Putty suddenly found he was extremely uncomfortable. Standing in front of a man apparently taunting him to come knock his teeth out wasn’t something he thought he’d have found himself doing. 

He shifted his position, turning to leave, but Clay reached out and grabbed his shoulder.

Putty’s entire body tensed up as Clay lifted up one hand and hooked one finger behind his bottom teeth, pulling his jaw open even further.

“I said take the fucking hit, Reverend!” 

His voice sounded so casual, so amused, that something coiled deep in Putty’s gut.

He hated him. He hated him deeply, hated how he ran the town, hated how he never listened to his sermons, hated the sound of his voice.

He wanted him to stop talking, and in that moment that was all that mattered. 

In one fluid motion, Putty pulled back out of Clay’s grasp, grabbed his tie, lifted one fist, and brought it down on Clay’s mouth with all the force he had. 

He cried out simultaneously with Clay as he cut his knuckle on his teeth.

Potterswheel and Papermouth both leapt back in shock as Clay’s tie slipped from Putty’s hand and he stumbled backwards against the bar’s table. He slid downwards into a sitting position.

This was the first time Putty had ever hit someone. He was a member of the church of Moralton, a good Christian, a Reverend, and yet here was, his own blood and someone else’s smeared on his clenched fist. 

Someone else’s blood, he realized, and he quickly knelt down on the floor in front of Clay. He had his hands up on his face, and his shoulders were shaking. He seemed to be sobbing, judging by the muffled sounds he was making. 

Albeit mixed a bit with pride, a pang of guilt shot through Putty and he reached out to shake Clay’s arm. 

“Hey- Hey-”

He pulled Clay’s hands away from his face. 

It was now clear that Clay was in fact not crying. He was laughing. 

He was sporting a gap instead of his left canine and there was a stream of blood running over his chin, but he doubled over with laughter, leaning down in front of Putty’s shocked face. 

“You- what the hell is wrong with you? What’s so funny?” 

He was furious, he decided now. 

Clay was still laughing. 

“It’s just-” He laughed louder. “I just got punched in the face! By YOU! You, of all people! I didn’t think you had the balls!”

He gagged on the last word, coughing, and grimaced as he spat something small into Putty’s lap. With a wave disgust, Putty realized it was the tooth he’d knocked out. 

The tooth that he, the Reverend, had knocked out. 

With a low groan, he pressed his hand to his mouth and shut his eyes. Had he really just done that? Did he really just hit a man square in the face and damage him so obviously? 

The sting of his knuckles was evidence enough. 

A hand on his shoulder knocked him out of his stupor. 

“Um. Reverend, are you alright?” Papermouth’s shrill voice rang in his ears. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just. Stop touching me, please.” He still felt uncomfortable even looking at the officer, reminded of his night in bed with his wife every time he looked Papermouth in the eyes. 

A hand suddenly in his lap made him shriek, Clay retrieving his tooth. 

“This is mine,” he said, giving the two men both a gap-toothed smile. They were the only ones left in the bar, Potterswheel had slipped out in the commotion to stop himself from joining the Reverend in splitting Clay’s face open. 

Putty stood up, brushing off imaginary dirt from his pants. Clay stared at him from the floor, an unreadable expression on his face. 

“Did that make you feel better?” He asked. 

Putty didn’t respond. The answer was no, and the answer was yes. 

Clay looked at the tooth in his hand. 

“Well then, I guess I was worth it, huh?” He said to no one in particular. 

“What?” asked Putty. 

“Oh, nothing.” 

Leaving Clay to ruminate over his tooth, Putty nodded towards Papermouth without looking at him and headed towards the door. He wanted out. 

“Oh, by the way,” Clay’s voice came from behind. 

Putty turned around. An apology? No, not from him. 

Clay looked at Papermouth and grinned. 

“Reverend Putty fucked your wife.”

As Papermouth turned towards Putty with a look of utter shock and betrayal on his face, Putty silently cursed him, cursed Clay, cursed the filthy bar and its sticky floor that stuck to his shoes.

Yet another day in the life of the citizens of Moralton, and what a life it was.

**Author's Note:**

> Watch me whip now watch me nae nae


End file.
